Drama only occurs on Mondays
by Depressive.Crazy
Summary: Come in and take a peek into different people's Mondays. First up is Stans. Main character pairings are StanxKyle and KennyxCartman. Rated M for language.


Sorry this chapter's not all that long. I'll update regularly though. Different stories for each character. Each story will last about two chapters, and it'll revolve. First up's Stan. If you want to suggest a character for my to write the next story about, just tell me. So this is the first part of Stan's story.

Review please :

**Disclaimer: **Ha, I don't own South Park 3

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Zombies biting peoples heads off was always a favourites of Kenny's. I could never understand why, gory movies like this one never much appealed to me. But I have no choice but to sit here, and listen to the disturbing moans and groans as Kenny points out the actor's mistakes like he's an expert on the subject. Which, I guess he is.

"And you see that guy? He's doing it all wrong," oh great, something had set him off again. After a moment he looked at me, giving me that 'there's something wrong with you but do you want me to ask about it' look. Of course there was something fucking wrong with me. I swear half the time Kenny could be so goddamn idiotic. But instead of getting pissed off at him, which I guess would've been pretty bad of me, I offered him a small smile, which he returned instantaneously. This was so unfair.

When the movie finished, I stood up, running a hand through my fine black hair. "Erm… I'm going to bed Ken. See you in the morning dude," I mumbled, almost as incoherent as he usually was. He offered a hand, as a sort of wave, and continued watching the television. I hadn't expected any more than that. He has a certain duty to be friends to both Kyle and me. So I shouldn't expect any favouritism, like him telling me advice or shit. I feel so fucking awful.

I'm a quick changer, and within a matter of minutes was safe and snug in bed. I wonder what Kyle's doing right now? Maybe doing the exact same thing as me, lying in bed, contemplating things. Maybe he's as sick as Kenny as I am, even though he's not living with him. Well, not permanently living with him, just temporary until I can sort everything out. Should I just ring him? Tell him how much I want to see him? How much I wish we could be in the same room again? Just as I was wondering that, my pillow vibrated as my phone rung. Almost gave me a heart attack. I scrabbled for it quickly, hoping against hope it might be my best friend. If he was even my best friend anymore.

Of course it wasn't. How could I be that stupid? 'Cartman' flashed on the screen, next to a little ringing phone icon. At first I was a little dubious, should I answer it or not? I gave in though pressing down the button softly.

"Dude, it's midnight. You better have a pretty good fucking reason for this," I groaned. I wasn't tired though, so I guess it was okay. I'd just rather be speaking to anyone than Eric.

"A good reason? Shut up yew fag, yew know why I'm calling yew. What the fuck have yew done to Kyle?" He demanded. This is the last thing I need, I'm going to break soon. More than I already am. Heart breaks getting to be a common occurrence in my life now, I'm growing to come to terms with it. But I guess it's not the same for Kyle…

"What have I done to him? Cartman, if you don't know the story get the fuck off the phone, I don't want to go through it. Call Kenny," I mumbled angrily, hanging up and clinging onto the phone for a moment. I soon heard Kenny's cell ring in the living room, and his perky voice answering it. I have to admit, Cartman's got a pretty good eye. Even if he is poor.

"Yello? Cartman! What? Oh… they're both stressed. Yeah, something happened. I don't know. Stan won't tell me all of it. You talked to Kyle? Woah dude… What else? I get it now. Yeah, I'll ring him. No I'm not going over. Look, Stan's here. Yes he's here. Haha, no way. Okay, talk to you soon. See ya," I have an uncontrollable urge to go out there and yell at him. Scream at home. But I know that won't make things better. How can things be so perfect between Cartman and him? Kyle and I were meant to be the fucking perfect ones. We've been there for each other since we were kids. We were inseparable, right up until I told him about my crush. Then we were even closer. Then we started living together. Everything was perfect. So perfect. And now Kenny and Cartman make a better couple than us? I can't believe it's come down to this. I can't believe I said all that stuff. Oh, wait, Kenny's talking again.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry dude. He's here, not that good either. He's asleep? What? No, I'm not sure. Lemme check," he was going to come in. I feigned sleep, closing my eyes and controlling my breathing, turning my back to him. He didn't check closely either, I heard the door creak open, and then quietly close.

"Yeah, he definitely is. Listen, he's a wreck without you. You're all he talks about. I know, he told me. Aw Kyle, don't be upset. Definitely. You do? You've got to talk to him. He's been fucking quiet. I don't think you'd believe it. Of course I'll come over tomorrow. No problem. See you tomorrow then. Bye," Now it was unbearable. I wanted to go out there and demand to Kenny to let me go with him. Or demand for him to comfort me more. I felt like being selfish. But slowly the feeling faded, and I was replaced with loneliness, and sadness. What's going on with me?

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When I woke up I turned over, checking the time. Ten. Brilliant, I'd slept late. After a quick shower, I was up and dressed and ready to go out. I'd decided I'd go talk to him. I needed to explain everything, I obviously hadn't done too well that night.

"Kenny?" I called out when I got to the kitchen. Kenny's apartment was small and cramped. The kitchen was in actual fact joined onto the living room, and the only bathroom was joined onto the bedroom. The only place he could've stayed last night was on the settee in the living room. I had insisted I'd take it, but he wouldn't hear of that. Stubborn bastard. And just as I'd expected, there he was, fast asleep with his back to me. He'd grown since we were younger, becoming the second tallest of us all. Believe it or not, Cartman was taller than all of us. Maybe tall people are just drawn to each other? That'd explain a lot. His chest moved silently up and down in accordance to his breathing, and for once he looked as innocent as I could ever remember him being. I couldn't help smiling, he was a great friend doing all of this for me. He made barely enough money to support himself, let alone me too. I can see why Cartman likes him. They started out like everyone Kenny was with, a one night stand couple. But it turned into more than that, and no one even realised it until they were a few months into the relationship.

I snuck out while he was sleeping, not feeling an ounce of guilt. He could speak to Kyle when I was done. After tugging my jacket on I was suddenly outside, trudging through the freezing snow. South Park never seems to have warm days. Well, in the summer we do, but they're never warm enough to melt the everlasting snow. As always, it was quiet outside, except for the occasional chirping of a bird. I can't believe how nervous I am. It's just Kyle, I'm sure he'll understand. All too soon I reached my old apartment, my hands residing in my pockets as I climbed up the endless amount of stairs to our door. I still had the key. I stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not this was a good, idea, so it surprised me when the door opened on it's own. And the shock came double as I saw who stepped out. Cartman.

"What're you doing here fatass?" I asked him, although I've got to admit, my voice has lost it's confidence. Love does that to you I guess. Cartman glared at me, as if I was a criminal or something. Was he taking Kyle's side or something?

"What do yew think I'm doing here Stan? Jesus fucking Christ… I'm going to see Kenny. Don't you dare screw him up anymore than he already is, or I swear I'll rip out your fucking spleen," he spat at me, talking about Kyle and pushing past me to go downstairs. My mouth must have hinges or something, I'd never gotten it that wide open before. Cartman had been here looking after Kyle? No way… no way… they were enemies, right? Then again, I used to think Kenny hated him too.

I stepped inside, and the sight before me was one I never want to remember. I'm still trying to erase the image from my mind. Kyle looked like a wreck, sitting on our sofa, watching television. His knees were pulled up to his chest, locked into place by his bare arms. A simple baggy white t-shirt adorned his chest, and pyjama bottoms covered his legs. Goddamnit, I love him so much. His green eyes were puffy, and he looked over at me with confusion, and maybe… was that a hint of disgust? I wouldn't be surprised. I'd done this to him.

"S-Stan?" He croaked. Oh Christ, I just wanted to run over and hug him, tell him everything was going to be okay. But all in an instant, his expression changed. "Get the fuck out," he hissed defensively, backing up against the sofa. One of his eyes was a mottled purple colour. I couldn't stand to look at it.

"Kyle, I'm sorry. I just want to talk to you," I insisted. I must've sounded pretty desperate, because after a moment his expression softened. I pushed the door closed behind me, no sense in letting the whole building hear our conversation. He gave an exasperated sigh, and nodded.

"Okay. Make it quick," he grumbled. I hoped against hope Cartman hadn't filled his head with some kind of rubbish. Something that would make him hate me more. But now that I was being given this chance to argue my side of the case, I didn't know what to say.

"I don't know what came over me. You know I didn't mean any of that stuff, right?" I asked him quietly, not moving from my position by the door. He raised an eyebrow at me, how he was able to keep his cool I'd never know.

"Of course you didn't. I know my mom doesn't support us. Hell, I know my whole damn family doesn't support us. But you didn't have to say all that stuff Stan," he told me. As if I didn't already know that.

"I know, I know. I just drank too much and-"

"And what? Stan you're always fucking drunk. Don't tell me any shit about Kenny doing that too you either. Or your dad. You know what, I don't care about you goddamn excuse. You punched me. You fucking punched me. I didn't even do anything," he yelled. Oh crap, had I screwed this up already?

"I feel bad about it, okay? I'm not drinking as much anymore. Kyle, I can't bear being without you. It feels like someone's stabbed me. I need you dude…" I had to make him realise this was hurting me as much as it was him. A tear ran down my cheek. I don't know what I'd do if this was it, the end. I couldn't cope. Kyle watched me for a moment, as if waiting for something else. "I love you Ky…" I mumbled.

"I love you too… But this isn't going to work. I'm sorry Stan," and in that instant I think I actually felt my heart snap in two. The waterworks started up madly, for both of us.

"Why not? You obviously still love me too, or this wouldn't hurt so much," I insisted. I was growing more and more desperate.

"Of course I still love you. That's why this is so hard. But Stan… you don't realise how much you hurt me," he sobbed. I wanted to kiss him, hold him, make him want to stay with me. But that seemed impossible. "I'm sorry…" he muttered again, but by then I was out of the door.

I fucking _hate_ Mondays.


End file.
